


When You Love Jack Frost

by AJofAmityville



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bennefrost - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJofAmityville/pseuds/AJofAmityville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie recounts his love for Jack, turning it into poetry. Based on their relationship between tumblr roleplay blogs, thatbratjamiebennett and nose-nippin-fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Love Jack Frost

It’s watching out the window late into the night - hoping, praying.  
You wait for a familiar visitor, and sometimes, you get one, though not who you expected.  
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been greeted by the sunrise a handful of times.  
The warmth its morning rays bring has become a discomfort to you.

Staying up past bed time and allowing your imagination to stretch as far as the star spangled sky you gaze upon are fun when you’re young, but children can only be let down so many times.  
As you get older and the workload piles up, you think to keep the window open and take the textbooks to bed.  
Over the years, they’ve shared his impression in the mattress.  
Its been a while since you’ve had it all to yourself, but you like it that way.

Your mother scolds you - who do you think you are, leaving that window open all through the winter?  
Do you know how much heating costs nowadays?  
She gets a promotion at her job and gives up, presuming a flue or two will teach you a lesson.  
She doesn’t seem to notice your immunity.

It’s “isn’t there _anyone_ you like?”  
“ **I do love snow**.”  
It’s no secret, really.  
They just don’t understand.  
You are one of those single digits that attends prom ‘alone’.  
Your mother wishes you would have taken your childhood friend from down the street, but you are cheering and laughing and dancing the night away nevertheless.  
You aren’t on the floor when the slow numbers begin to play, but glancing at the empty seat next to you, you think to yourself just how good that sparkling blue and white tuxedo looks on him.   
It would look equally as nice on your bedroom floor.  
Later, you realize you were right.  
You remind yourself just how lucky you are.

It’s moving into your first apartment;  
or should you say “ _ **our apartment** ”_.  
Family, friends - no one knew for certain if you were actually ready to venture out on your own.  
And neither did you.  
Fortunately, you’re not.  
They think the cat you rescued was to help you fill some kind of loneliness.  
They’ll never know the look on his face when you took him home.  
“ _I thought we talked about bringing in strays_.”  
You remind him of the window.  
His hands are on your waist, his lips on yours.  
The cat meows.  
His laugh is a Christmas carol.

It’s not the easiest love.  
It’s sleepless nights.  
Endless waiting.  
Countless tears.  
Unpredictable arrivals and disappearances.  
Disappointments.  
Stares on the street as you apparently talk to yourself.  
Bitterness.  
Brattiness.  
Missing him.  
  
It’s difficult.  
But it’s worth it.  
God, is it worth it.  
  
Every kiss.  
Every touch.  
Every embrace.  
Every snowflake.  
Every shiver.  
Every tooth-box memory.

It’s patience paid off.  
It’s not worrying about whether the window is opened and closed because he can just walk in the front door.  
It no longer matters if you walk in without finding him.  
You’re not home until he is - safe in his arms where the frost has melted off the sleeves of his hoodie, that’s how often he’s held you.

It’s love.  
It’s absence that makes the heart grow fonder.  
It’s the man of your dreams, the greatest person you’ve ever known.  
It’s knowing soulmates _do_ exist.

Above all, it’s not minding when the clock will inevitably - when you’re old and gray on the verge of your last breath, and he is there beside you, still as young and beautiful as when you first met.   
That was the first day you truly opened your eyes, and now he is the last thing you will see in this life.  
And you don’t mind.  
Many die thinking they have not done all the things they could have did, given as much as they could give, or loved as hard as they could.  
But not you.  
Because you did - all with his help.  
And no human that ever lived could be as happy.

But there will be more.  
Because you will be born again - parts of you.  
You will find yourself with a new name and face.  
And he will find you each time.  
He will tell tales of his first love and say how you reflect his ‘Light’.  
You will be charmed by his words, as you were in every life before that, but like each life after the original, you are utterly clueless.  
And so is he.  
And that’s okay. 

Let him fall in love with a hundred more incarnations of you.  
It’s what he deserves.  
Because just in one life, he had the power to put the light of a million stars in your eyes.  
Thus, he should meet a million more Lights.

But right now, young and beautiful as you are, you are the only one.  
His _Last Light._  
These are just some of the things you think about as you lay together on that couch you found on the side of the road, tattered and contrasting with the color scheme of the rest of the room.  
But hell, it was in your budget.  
The poetry is there in the scuffed leather, ripped seams, and most of all, in his sapphire hues gazing upon you.  
He cradles you like the child you always felt to be around him.  
And you don’t think about anything else because there is nothing else other than you and him.

It’s what your life has become.

It’s everything that happens when you love Jack Frost.


End file.
